Ryuu
The cool night air of Orario did absolutely nothing to cool Alise's temper as they made way through the city streets.
"I am going to strangle him," Alise growled, her boots stomping against the cobblestones with enough force to crack the mortar. "The next time I see that blindfolded, arrogant, so-called 'merchant,' I am going to wrap my hands around his smug neck and throw him into a pit of Poison Vermis."
Ryuu walked a half-step behind her captain, her expression a mask of serene composure that expertly hid her own exhaustion.
However frustrated Alise became, Ryuu had to admit—if only to herself—that Gojo had done the right thing. Extracting them from Floor 17 the moment the deep, grinding tremors of the Goliath's spawn began wasn't an act of cowardice; it was an act of brutal, necessary pragmatism. It didn't matter if he had triggered the extraction by accident with one of his bizarre magical artifacts, or if it had been a deliberate, calculated move on his part. He had removed them from the board before the Monster Rex could trap them in the room.
Alise hated it, of course. Her head was always in the clouds when it came to justice, her heart fiercely dedicated to the protection of the innocent. Retreating while the outpost of Rivira sat just one floor below a newly spawned Goliath felt like a betrayal of everything the Astrea Familia stood for.
But that idealism is exactly why Kaguya and Alise make the perfect leadership for us, Ryuu mused quietly, her sky-blue eyes watching her captain pace.
Their philosophies constantly clashed— Alise's burning, uncompromising righteousness against Kaguya's cold, grounded logic. It was a friction that produced the best possible results for their Familia, keeping them anchored without letting them lose their soul. If only the Far East girl didn't take such immense pleasure in teasing her alongside Lyra, Ryuu thought with an inward sigh, she would be perfectly content running dives with them every day of the week.
"We have to go back down," Alise declared suddenly, stopping in the middle of the street. Her red hair whipped around her shoulders as she turned to face her battered squad. "The people in Rivira trust us. If that Goliath wanders too close to the threshold, or if a foolish party lures its ire toward the town—"
"Captain, respectfully, absolutely not," Lyra cut in, leaning heavily against a streetlamp.
The Pallum crossed her arms, her tone carrying the dry, unimpressed weight of street-smart reality. "Even with those fancy potions that eccentric weirdo handed out, we are in no shape to descend back to Floor 17 and challenge the Floor Boss. Look at us."
Ryuu didn't have to look; she already knew the tally. Behind her, Maryuu leaned heavily against Iska, the healer's face pale and drawn.
"Lyra is right, Alise," Maryuu murmured, wincing as she shifted her weight. "My Mind is practically bottomed out. I can handle minor cuts, but if that giant lands a solid blow on any of you, I won't have the magic to pull you back from the brink."
Iska, ever the battle-hungry Amazon, let out a frustrated grunt. "I never say no to a brawl, Captain, you know that. But my blades are chipped, and my arms feel like lead. We lack the raw offensive power to break a Goliath's regeneration right now."
At the edge of the group, Neze, their tracker, spoke up, her voice quiet but firm. Her dog-like ears, usually perked with alertness, were folded back with fatigue. "My senses are dulled, Captain. I can't track its movements effectively in this state, nor can I guarantee I'd detect an ambush if we were to proceed. Going back down now would be walking in blind."
"And a war of attrition is a death sentence against a Monster Rex," Celty added quietly from the rear, her sensible nature aligning perfectly with the others. She wiped a smudge of dried monster ash from her cheek. "We notify the Guild. We request backup, and we inform Lady Astrea. If we really need to intervene, we wait until morning and bring Kaguya's group with us."
Ryuu watched the argument play out, serving as the silent foundation of the group. With every one of her squadmates voicing their physical limits, the decision became clear. She knew it was a bitter pill for Alise to swallow, weighing her burning morals against the exhaustion of her sisters. But in the end, Alise's love for her Familia won out.
Ryuu stepped forward, placing a gentle, reassuring hand on Alise's shoulder, offering a single, firm nod of agreement with the others.
Alise's shoulders slumped. The fiery protest died, replaced by the heavy, unhappy acceptance of a leader who knew they were right.
"Fine," Alise grumbled, turning her face toward the center of the city. "To the Pantheon. But if I see that white-haired merchant on the way, I'm throwing him in the canal."
They resumed their march. Alise continued muttering dark, creative curses under her breath, promising terrible retribution upon Gojo for denying her a heroic stand.
Behind her, Lyra fell into step alongside Ryuu with a remarkably smug expression. Ryuu noticed the way the Pallum's hand casually patted the side pocket of her skirt—a pocket that distinctly jingled with the faint, metallic clink of extra rings. Ryuu's eyes narrowed slightly, but she chose not to comment. If Lyra had managed to swindle the swindler out of his defensive artifacts, that was her business.
I just hope no idiots are currently lingering near the boss room, Ryuu thought, casting a brief, dark glance back toward the towering silhouette of Babel. If any arrogant adventurers get bold and try to challenge the Goliath face-to-face tonight, there won't be anything left of them for the Guild to bury.
She shook her head, silently praying that no such lunatics existed.
Once they reached the Pantheon, they went straight to the quest submissions counter. The clerk stamped their completion forms with a satisfied nod — then Alise leaned forward, her expression turning grim.
"Also. An update from Floor 17. The Goliath has spawned."
The stamp clattered to the desk.
What followed ate thirty minutes and most of Ryuu's remaining patience — a private debriefing room, a senior official with an expanding folder of questions, and the particular exhaustion of recounting an emergency to someone who had not been in it. By the time they finally returned to the cool night air, the Guild's emergency response was already in motion.
Liliruca Arde walked quietly beside Ryuu, her small hands clutching the lapels of the massive, heavy black coat Gojo had draped over her shoulders. It swallowed her small frame entirely, trailing near the cobblestones, but she wore it like a protective shell.
"We can escort you back to your Familia residence, Liliruca," Alise offered warmly as they navigated the labyrinthine residential districts. "Just let us know which direction."
Lili froze. A deep, ugly flush of shame crept up her neck, her eyes dropping instantly to the cobblestones. She pulled the black coat tighter around herself, her small body rigid with a tension that had nothing to do with the chill of the night. To Ryuu, the reaction was unmistakable; whatever Familia the girl belonged to, it was clearly a source of profound embarrassment, a name she refused to speak aloud.
The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.
"I-I... I have guardians who will be worried," Lili squeaked finally, her voice small and tight. "I can lead you to them. In the side streets."
Ryuu frowned, about to ask for clarification, but Lyra caught her eye and gave a sharp, minute shake of her head. The tactician's usual smugness had vanished, replaced by a look Ryuu recognised — the kind that grew up in shadows rather than forests.
"Side streets it is, kid," Lyra said smoothly, stepping to the front to guide them, masking the tension perfectly. "Lead the way."
Alise caught the silent exchange between her friends and nodded, her expression softening with immediate, unquestioning empathy.
They followed Lili through a series of winding, increasingly narrow alleys, far from the affluent glow of the main street. Finally, they stopped in front of a small, weathered wooden door tucked away in a quiet, unassuming corner of the district. The moment they rounded the corner, an elderly couple standing anxiously on the stoop rushed forward. The old woman's eyes were wide with worry, but the sight of Lili—safe, if drowning in an absurdly large coat—made her sigh in relief. The old man's gaze, however, was fixed on the armed, high-level adventurers flanking the little girl, his posture defensive.
Alise immediately slipped into her role as a reassuring protector. She stepped forward, offering the elderly couple a warm, disarming smile that was designed to calm frayed nerves.
"Good evening," she began, her voice carrying a gentle authority as she gave a respectful nod. "Please, don't be alarmed. My name is Alise Lovell, Captain of the Astraea Familia. We apologize for the late hour."
She gestured to her companions and then to the small girl standing beside them. "We were on a dive with Liliruca and just wanted to ensure she made it home safely. She performed exceptionally well today—a real asset to the party. We're very grateful for her support."
Having established her identity and assuaged their immediate fears, she reached into her own pouch and pressed a few heavy gold coins into the old man's hand before he could protest. "For her trouble," Alise insisted gently. "To make sure she has everything she needs to recover properly."
Finally, with the guardians now looking at her with expressions of dawning relief and gratitude, she knelt down, bringing herself to Lili's eye level.
"If you ever need anything, Liliruca—anything at all—you can come to Stardust Garden," Alise said, her expression earnest and open. Then, she leaned in closer, a conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes as she whispered, "Especially if you found Gojo."
She gave the little girl a happy wink, a gesture so full of cheerful camaraderie that it even made Ryuu shake her head in fond amusement.
The old couple, now looking at Alise with open adoration, began profusely thanking them for watching over Lili and for their unending work protecting Orario from Evilus.
Alise puffed out her chest, her face beaming with the pure, unadulterated pride of a hero who had done a good deed. "It's what we do!" she declared, her voice ringing with conviction.
They waited until the door closed securely behind the girl, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet alleyway.
Ryuu stared at the door for a moment longer, a quiet sense of satisfaction settling over her lingering exhaustion. They hadn't slain a Goliath tonight, but they had brought someone safely home. For the Astraea Familia, that was always enough.
"Come on," Alise said softly, turning her face toward the distant, welcoming lights of their own home. "Let's get back to Stardust Garden. Lady Astraea is going to have our heads for being this late."
-◈ -
Lili
The dusty morning sunlight filtering through the smudged window of her room was weak, nothing like the beautiful, glowing blue ceiling of the Under Resort. As Lili sat up on her thin mattress and pulled her knees to her chest, her legs throbbed with a deep, dull ache. It was proof of all the walking they had done yesterday.
Outside, the quiet swish-swish of a broom drifted through the walls as the nice old couple who rented her this tiny space started their day. It was so peaceful here. Safe. It was a whole world away from the chaotic, terrifying halls of the Soma Familia estate she had finally managed to escape after her parents died.
She rubbed her tired eyes, half-expecting the cramped wooden walls to melt away and drop her right back into the middle of the Dungeon. Yesterday didn't feel real at all. It felt like one of those heroic stories some of the older kids used to dream about.
After all, she was just Lili—a newly orphaned Pallum playing adventurer with a dull knife and a secondhand pack. But then Mr. Gojo had scooped her up. He hadn't ignored her or looked at her like she was dead weight like the swordsmen and others in the plaza did. He had just offered her a hand, and suddenly she was marching alongside the legendary Astraea Familia as if she belonged there.
Lili let out a breathy, fragile laugh, but it was immediately cut short. Her stomach gave a sharp, angry cramp, dragging her right back to reality.
The hunger pang reminded her of wandering the crystal-lit streets of Rivira. She could still remember the mouth-watering smell of rich meat stew wafting from a tavern, and how her heart had dropped into her boots when she saw the ten-thousand Valis price tag. Ten thousand. That was the exact amount Mr. Gojo had promised to pay her for a single floor. The shame had burned her cheeks hot and bright. Not wanting the Astraea Familia to see how poor she was, she had quietly retreated to a dark corner to force down her own dry, tasteless rations until her throat hurt.
Now, a cold draft seeped through the floorboards, biting at her bare ankles and snapping her out of the memory. The old couple's house was safe, but safety didn't pay the tribute. The financial reality of her life pressed down on her chest like a heavy stone. If she didn't show up to the Soma mansion with enough Valis this week, the punishment would be awful. She had to go back out today and find work again until she could find Mr. Gojo.
Shivering from the chill, Lili reached for the oversized coat she had huddled under during the night. Mr. Gojo had draped it over her when the crushing pressure of the Middle Floors became too much to bear. In the dizzying confusion of their sudden arrival on the surface and their quick goodbyes, she had completely forgotten to give it back.
Pulling the heavy fabric into her lap, she marveled at how amazing it felt. It was soft and strangely squishy, holding onto a quiet, steady warmth like it was somehow alive, yet she knew it was incredibly tough. It had wrapped around her like a perfect shield, keeping her safe from the awful monsters and the heavy dungeon air.
Because it now smelled like dungeon dust and ozone, she knew she needed to clean and fold it perfectly before returning it to him, along with the two rings he had trusted her to hold. Carefully, she reached into the deep inner pocket to check on them. Her small fingers brushed the cool metal of the rings, but then they bumped into something else. Something bulky.
Frowning, Lili pulled her hand back out. It was a heavy leather pouch, tied tightly with a cord.
She stared at it, her heart giving a clumsy, painful thump. She hadn't put that there. For a terrifying second, panic seized her. Did I take something from Mr. Gojo by mistake? Will he think I stole it?
With trembling fingers, she picked at the knot until it came loose, then tipped the pouch over the center of her mattress.
Clink. Clack.
Lili's breath stopped entirely. A cascade of gold and silver spilled across the frayed blanket, catching the dusty morning light and flashing with a brilliant shine that made her head spin.
She froze. The tight, ugly knot in her chest completely seized up as her mind stumbled over the pile. Reaching out with one shaking finger, she half-expected her hand to pass right through an illusion. But the metal was cold. Solid. Real.
It was a small pile. And there was no note, no grand explanation—just a heavy pouch, tucked deliberately deep into a pocket where a struggling little girl was guaranteed to find it.
Lili's breath hitched in short, ragged gasps. He noticed, she realized.
The memory of the tavern in Rivira flashed behind her eyes again. She pictured Mr. Gojo's head tilting slightly, those dark glasses tracking her as she slipped away to eat her stale bread in the dark. He knew I couldn't afford anything. He saw me. But instead of offering her charity in front of the others and making her feel small and useless, he had just quietly slipped it into the coat.
That was when the dam broke.
The crushing, lonely terror of trying to survive the streets, the constant, exhausting fear of failing to pay her tribute, and the desperate wish that just one person would give her a chance—it all collided in a wave of profound, dizzying relief. Collapsing forward, Lili buried her face into the oversized collar of the black coat and let out a ragged, ugly sob. She bit down hard on the thick fabric to muffle the sound so the old couple outside wouldn't hear, her tiny shoulders shaking violently. She wasn't crying because she was sad; she was crying because, for the first time, she didn't have to be terrified today.
It took a long time for the tears to stop, but eventually, the violent shaking subsided into soft hiccups. Lili sat up, scrubbing her puffy eyes with the back of her sleeves. Sniffing quietly, she reached out and started to separate the coins into neat little stacks. She had to know for sure.
She counted them once. Then twice. It was exactly two hundred and fifty thousand Valis.
Her breath hitched again, her brow furrowing. That was wrong. Mr. Gojo had promised her ten thousand Valis for every floor they cleared. She had only gone down to the 18th floor before coming back to the surface. That meant she was only owed one hundred and eighty thousand. This was seventy thousand extra.
Guilt immediately picked at her chest. She hadn't even fought anything! Compared to how hard Ms. Alise, Ms. Lyra, and the others had worked, her own 'work' was barely anything at all. She knew she didn't deserve this much. It was entirely too much, completely unearned just for sitting on his shoulders with a bag.
But just as she thought about separating the extra coins to give back to him, the ugly, crushing reality of her situation bared its teeth. She looked down at her frayed clothes and the holes in her worn-out boots. She thought about her rusty dagger, her empty stomach, and the ridiculously high tribute the Soma Familia demanded just to leave her be. Giving the extra money back meant going hungry again sooner. Keeping it... keeping it meant this money would solve all of her problems right now. It would pay the tribute, buy everything she needed, and even leave enough for her to actually start saving for emergencies.
Fresh tears—this time of pure, overwhelming joy—spilled over her eyelashes and dripped onto her lap. She was determined to find Mr. Gojo again. Not just to return his amazing coat, but to look him in the eye and thank him for noticing, for understanding, and for helping a nobody like her.
She reached out and carefully picked up the two magic rings, clutching them tightly in her small palm. Yesterday in the plaza, she had thought of the rings as collateral—a safety net in case he was lying. But now, pressing the cool metal to her chest, they felt like a promise.
As the morning sun finally began to brighten the smudged window, casting a warm glow over the piles of silver and gold, Lili decided exactly what she was going to do today. First, she would pay the nice old couple everything she owed them for rent. Then, she was going straight to the shops to get the gear she desperately needed. Watching Ms. Alise, Ms. Lyra, and the rest of the Astraea Familia fight had taught her so much; she had a really good idea of what basic equipment she needed to actually improve and survive in the dungeon.
After that, she would march right up to the Soma mansion, pay her tribute in full, and maybe—just maybe—ask to get her Status updated if it didn't cost too much.
Lili drew in a deep breath, a watery but fiercely determined smile breaking across her face. She nodded to herself, deciding to see it all through. She was going to make the best of her situation. And hopefully, she would bump into Mr. Gojo at some point soon, so she could finally say thank you and make him proud.
-◈ -
Hedin
Diplomacy with his own kind was an archaic, agonizing affair that he loathed with every fiber of his being.
It had cost him ten days. Ten days of sitting in woven-wood pavilions, sipping tasteless nectar, and adhering to the suffocating, rigid customs required when the heads of two Elven royalties sat across from one another. The elders of the Seolo and Alf's Royal forests had demanded reparations, formal apologies, and the head of the blue-haired desecrator who had blown a crater in their sacred lake.
Hedin, a King who had long ago discarded his crown to serve the only true Queen of the world, had despised every second of it.
He could not simply disregard the decorum and obliterate them with lightning—as much as his fingers had twitched to do so. A breach in manners would reflect poorly on his Mistress. And so, he had endured. He had smiled politely, navigated their tedious labyrinth of grievances, and finally offered a string of economic concessions and Familia support that pacified their fragile pride, combined with a delicately veiled promise of absolute ruin should they ever lay a finger on his goddess's newest asset.
The diplomatic victory was absolute, but the sheer annoyance of having to clean up a rookie's mess had left Hedin in a foul, prickly mood as he finally returned to Folkvangr. He strode through the grand halls of the manor, his cloak snapping with his brisk pace, making his way toward the Resource Management office to review the week's ledgers and ascertain exactly how much operational capacity the Familia had burned through in his absence.
As he turned down the administrative corridor, he came upon a bizarre scene.
A human boy—wearing the mint uniform of a Guild runner—was struggling to drag a massive, reinforced leather sack down the polished marble corridor. With every heave, the unmistakable, heavy clinking of thousands of Valis echoed through the hall.
Hedin's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. It was brazen and sloppy for one of the executives to order a Guild runner to deliver a payout of that size directly through the front doors without an armed escort or a discrete transfer was a gross disregard for Familia decorum.
"You there," Hedin commanded, his voice slicing through the clatter.
The runner jumped, nearly dropping the heavy sack on his own foot. He turned, his eyes widening as he registered the blonde hair, the glasses, and the terrifying aura of the White Elf.
"Y-Yes, Mr. Selland?" the runner stammered, bowing hastily. "I am a runner for the Guild, sir! I was instructed to deliver this directly to your merchant manager, Mr. Raymond!"
"I can see that," Hedin said coolly, stepping closer. "Which of my peers was foolish enough to request a raw currency delivery in broad daylight? Who is this for?"
The boy fumbled with a manifest attached to his belt, his hands shaking under Hedin's icy scrutiny. He pulled out a sheet of paper and read the name.
"It is... it is for an adventurer named Maximus Stilbon, sir."
Hedin froze.
Maximus.
The elf's mind stalled for a fraction of a second. A Level 1 rookie, barely out of his Baptism, having a Guild runner haul a sack of Valis so large the boy could barely lift it? It was absurd. It was offensive to the natural order of progression.
But then, Hedin saw the perfect opportunity. The boy was reckless. He lacked discipline. A harsh lesson in Familia economics and financial humility was exactly what the "Madman" needed to curb his arrogant, reckless streak.
"Bring it to my office," Hedin ordered smoothly, turning on his heel.
Ten minutes later, Hedin sat behind his immaculate desk, sifting through the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated during his diplomatic trip. In the center of the room, Clemon—one of his clerks—was kneeling beside the massive sack, sorting the contents with the help of the nervous Guild runner.
"Count it all," Hedin instructed without looking up from his documents. "And write the entire sum off against the debt Maximus currently owes the Familia. We shall see how much of a dent his little excursion made."
Clemon paused, his hands hovering over the ledgers. Hedin sensed the elf wanted to say something—some unnecessary, stupid hesitation that Hedin had no patience for.
"Did I stutter, Clemon?" Hedin asked, the temperature in the room dropping.
Clemon swallowed hard, nodded frantically, and went back to sorting the coins.
Hedin returned to his reading, relishing the thought of handing Max a receipt that showed he still owed the Familia over a hundred million Valis for the Grimoire and the premium treatment. It would crush the boy's ego. It would tether him to reality.
A few minutes later, Clemon stood up. He approached the desk, clutching the ledger to his chest like a shield. He knocked timidly on the edge to get his attention.
Hedin looked up, raising a single, expectant eyebrow. "Speak."
What Clemon said next would have made Hedin's jaw drop if he were a lesser being. As it was, his eyes simply widened a fraction of a centimeter before he ruthlessly schooled his expression back into a mask of cold indifference.
"The... the debt is cleared, Lord Hedin," Clemon repeated, his voice barely a squeak.
Hedin's first instinct was to reach across the desk and bash the low-born clerk's head against the mahogany for uttering such sheer, mathematical ridiculousness. Instead, he simply extended a gloved hand.
"Show me."
Clemon scrambled forward, laying the open ledger on the desk.
Hedin's eyes tracked the neat columns of ink. There was Maximus's name. Beneath it, the red ink of his initial outstanding balance: -150,000,000 Valis. It accounted for the Grimoire, the luxury of his suite, his training, and other administrative fees associated.
Directly beneath that initial sum was another entry dated just a few days ago—a payment that reduced the balance by 10,000,000 Valis.
Hedin's eyes narrowed slightly. He knew. The boy had somehow discovered the existence of the debt and had already been actively paying it down. The realization managed to momentarily damp Hedin's spirits, taking the wind out of his sails by stripping away the leverage he thought he secretly held over the novice.
But that fleeting annoyance didn't last long. It was instantly obliterated by the sheer impossibility of the very next line.
Entered just moments ago, a single massive deposit completely wiped off the rest of the balance owed, erasing the remaining -140,000,000 Valis entirely and leaving a staggering surplus attributing to Familia contribution in the green.
Hedin's hands tightened convulsively on the ledger. The thick spine groaned and the heavy parchment crinkled loudly as his first-class strength threatened to crush the entire book into dust. A spike of sheer rage at the absurdity of the situation boiled up in his chest.
Impossible, his mind screamed. He caught himself just before snapping the desk in two, taking a slow, rigid breath. His jaw ticked as he forcibly loosened his grip, wrestling his senses back under ironclad control. He absolutely refused to lose his dignity and unleash his volatile anger in front of low-born clerks and messengers.
If it wiped out all of it... Hedin's mind raced, his immaculate composure cracking internally. How much did he get paid by the Guild? What did he sell?!
Hedin's gaze snapped to the Guild runner, who was currently trying to make himself as small as possible near the doorway.
"You," Hedin said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, vibrating frequency. "What was the total sum of this delivery?"
The runner hesitated, swallowing thickly. "I... I am not supposed to disclose the exact financial details of a client's transaction to anyone but the recipient or the designated manager, sir..."
Crackle.
The air in the office suddenly grew heavy. The sharp, acrid scent of ozone filled the room. Faint arcs of blue lightning began to dance across Hedin's knuckles, the static electricity making the paperwork on his desk flutter.
"I am the Chief Resource Overseer of this Familia," Hedin whispered, his eyes glowing with latent, terrifying power. "I am his commanding officer. You will tell me what he sold, and you will tell me exactly how much it was worth. Now."
The runner's professional discretion shattered under the weight of a Level 5 mage's killing intent. The boy opened his mouth like a broken dam.
"One hundred and seventy-five million Valis, sir!" the runner blurted out, trembling violently. "A-And a few specialized items that were secured in a separate vault! And a letter! That's all I know, I swear!"
Hedin's mind blanked.
One hundred and seventy-five million.
In a single dive? No, that was impossible. The logistics didn't support it. Even if the boy had slaughtered every monster from Floor 1 to Floor 18, the sheer volume of magic stones required to hit that number would have required a caravan of supporters to carry. He had sold something else. Something rare. Something absurdly valuable.
Due to his recent arrival, he had a massive, infuriating blind spot regarding the boy's activities over the past week and a half. How in Lady Freya's name did a novice acquire anything worth that astronomical sum?
Furthermore, the Guild wouldn't simply hand over a fortune of that magnitude to a new recruit without routing the transaction through the Familia's proper financial channels. If such a monumental deal had occurred while he was away, only one person would have possessed the authority and connections to facilitate it.
Raymond.
Hedin's eyes narrowed, the static electricity in the room snapping sharply as his focus shifted. He needed to track down the merchant head immediately and wring the truth out of him. Raymond was going to tell him exactly what Max had found, and how the boy had managed to extort the Guild for such a ridiculous fortune in his absence.
But that interrogation would have to wait. First, he had this quivering peon from the Guild right in front of him to extract answers from.
"The letter," Hedin demanded, extending his hand toward the runner. "Give it to me."
The runner flinched, but to Hedin's genuine surprise, the boy took a step back and shook his head.
"I-I cannot, Lord Hedin," the runner said, his voice shaking so hard it cracked, though he miraculously held his ground. "The Guildhead's office gave strict instructions. The items and the letter are for the hands of Maximus Stilbon only. I would be prosecuted by the Guild if I handed them to anyone else."
The static in the room intensified. Hedin's eyes narrowed into slits, ready to simply take the letter by force. But the mention of the Guildhead's direct involvement gave him pause.
His mind immediately went to Royman Mardeel. Though Hedin held a profoundly low opinion of the Guild's pig, he was still not a man to be easily trifled with. The vain, obese elf was notoriously petty and fiercely greedy. Royman would never willingly let go of such an astronomical sum of money under normal circumstances. For the miserly Guildhead to authorize a payout of this magnitude without a fight meant something truly massive—and incredibly lucrative—had occurred in Hedin's absence.
Hedin exhaled a sharp, irritated breath. The lightning faded, though the smell of ozone lingered heavily in the air.
"Clemon," Hedin snapped, turning his glare to the clerk. "Take the surplus funds and the items. Secure them in the primary vault. Do not touch them until I return."
He stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor, and stepped around the desk. Towering over the terrified Guild runner, Hedin snatched the sealed letter from the boy's trembling hand.
"I will deliver this to Maximus myself," Hedin stated, his tone brooking no argument. "You have completed your delivery. Get out of my sight."
The runner didn't need to be told twice. He bolted from the office as if the hellhounds were snapping at his heels.
Hedin gripped the sealed letter tightly, his mind churning as he marched out of his office. He moved through the halls of Folkvangr like a wraith, fully intending to find the boy, drag him out of whatever hole he was hiding in, and demand a full, meticulous accounting of his activities.
But as he swept through the training grounds, the mess hall, and the executive quarters, he found no trace of the blue-haired anomaly.
Instead, he found rumors.
Passing near the courtyard, Hedin paused as the voices of two members drifted toward him. It was the dwarf, Trent, and a half-pallum, Van.
"Stone and steel, the lad's already in the Middle Floors," Trent grumbled, stroking his thick beard, though a hint of grudging admiration was in his gruff voice. "I mean, he's still fresh meat. Sheer madness."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Van chuckled, leaning against the stone wall. "We better get ready for the celebratory feast he promised."
Hedin scoffed internally. Of course, the boy was misranked as a Level 2; that was public knowledge, barely a footnote in the grand scheme of the Familia. But to hear these low-level members speak of it with such breathless awe, to chatter about celebrating a simple milestone like reaching the Middle Floors, was grating. He dismissed their outlandish proclamations as the typical exaggeration of the weak.
He had no time for this. He needed facts, not rumors from the courtyard. And there was only one person assigned to provide those facts.
He pivoted sharply and marched straight toward Hogni's quarters. The Dark Elf had taken the mantle to shadow the boy and ensure his safety. If Maximus was doing something this reckless, Hogni had explaining to do.
Without knocking, he threw open the door to Hogni's room—only to find it completely empty.
The silence of the vacant room grated against Hedin's nerves. The faint smell of ozone returned to the air as a vein pulsed at his temple. His fellow executive was either complicit in this madness or utterly failing to control the boy. Just as his anger was about to burst through his ironclad composure, a soft voice broke the silence behind him.
"Are you looking for Maximus, Mr. Hedin?"
Hedin turned to see Horn standing calmly in the corridor, dressed impeccably in her maid outfit, her hands folded neatly in front of her.
"I am," Hedin said, his voice dangerously low. "Do you know where the upstart has vanished to?"
"He has not vanished," Horn replied simply. "He is currently in the Dungeon. Facing the Goliath, I believe."
Hedin almost scoffed out loud.
The Goliath. It was mathematically laughable. A fresh Level 1 rookie, no matter how physically durable or magically gifted, taking on a Level 4 Monster Rex? It was suicide. It was the absolute peak of arrogance from a child who didn't understand the vast, insurmountable gap between levels. He opened his mouth to dismiss the claim as sheer fantasy, but Horn's next words stopped him dead.
"Our Mistress shared it with me just a moment ago," Horn added, a faint, reverent smile touching her lips. "She was beaming with pride. She said he is already surpassing every single expectation she had for him."
Snap.
The last thread of Hedin's immaculate patience severed.
A Level 1 novice had not only bypassed the Familia's chain of command and extorted millions from the Guild, but he had dragged a Level 5 executive into his suicidal theater, playing with his life in a way that delighted their Goddess while spitting in the face of Hedin's meticulously crafted order.
With rage burning like liquid lightning in his veins and his fury barely held in check, Hedin turned his back on Horn and marched toward the front gates of Folkvangr. His cloak billowed behind him like a storm front.
He was going to the Dungeon.
He didn't care what his mistress's expectations were right now. If Maximus thought he could shatter the rules of reality and the hierarchy of the Familia without consequence, he was sorely mistaken. If the boy survived the Goliath, Hedin was going to make him wish he hadn't.
--> Devil in a Dungeon <--
AN:
Coming to this chapter, what a chapter it was. We get continuation from 2 sources showing what's happened since Gojo pranked them and obviously we finally see Hedin and the poor guy can't catch a break. First he was stuck with the elves for 10 days and just as he was back, he began receiving all the bad news about Max all at once, he has my pity.
I have an idea that might blow up in my face, but I still want to know your thoughts on it. Do you want Hedin to catch up to Max and Hogni in the dungeon or for them to slip away as Max did when Allen pursued him?
In the next chapter, we will see Max being Max and creatively using Kairu and end of this dive following that Max will set up his business after his falna update and enlightening Hedin, obviously. ;)
Don't forget to share your thoughts on the story in a review/comment.
If you'd like to read 8 chapters ahead(around 40k words), support my work, or commission a story idea, visit p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m/b3smash.
Please note that the chapters are early access only, they will be eventually released here as well.
Next update will be on Friday.
Ben, Out.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.